One Shot Collection
by Salix15
Summary: A collection of unrelated one shots that will involve multiple pairings, which so far include Quinntana and Faberry, but will have many others mostly involving Quinn, Rachel, Santana, and Brittany. Rated anywhere from K to M. Descriptions, pairing, ratings, and any trigger warnings will be put at the top of each chapter.
1. I'm Not Crazy, Just Determined

**This one follows season 4 as I best remember it, so sorry for any mistakes in the timeline. **

**Summary: Slight AU, takes place sometime after Feud. Rachel has been suspicious of Santana ever since they got back from Mr. Shue's wedding, but after Kurt refuses to conspire with her to get to the bottom of whatever is making their roommate so happy, she decides to let it go. Until one night she comes home and her suspicions are confirmed.**

**Rating: T**

**Pairing: Quinntana**

**Trigger Warning (apparently): Brochel with mentions of Finchel. Since I was flamed a few times for including these, let me explain: I can't stand Brochel or Finchel, but I'm following season 4 with a few modifications. Even though these relationships were poorly handled by the writers, in my opinion, they are still important for Rachel's character development, which is why I included them.**

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"It can't just be me, Kurt. Santana has been acting strange ever since Mr. Schue's wedding," I whisper, well, I whisper as best as a person trained in the dramatic arts can whisper. It's more of a stage whisper, and we both know it. Thank God Kurt always has a flare for the dramatic that he can't turn off either because if he were anyone else right now they would have rolled their eyes at me, and I don't think I would be able to handle something like that today.

"Rachel, maybe she's finally just getting settled, and doesn't feel the need to be so defensive. People are allowed to relax every once in a while. Just because you're like a neurotic purse dog on crack doesn't mean we all have to be," he says, and I give him a little glare. He's been spending too much time with her, and the insults fall out of his mouth like nonorganic coffee grounds that was probably picked and processed by children from a third world country.

"It isn't just in my head. Did you know it's been four days since she's complained about me singing show tunes before ten am, and she hasn't commented on my shelf in the refrigerator at all since we got back, and she hasn't made fun of my looks or my new clothes in three days, ok? Something has definitely changed, and I don't think it's her finally getting comfortable with living in this city," I tell him, and I'm trying to be quiet because Santana could come home from one of her jobs at any minute and I really don't want her to overhear this conversation and take it the wrong way.

It's not that I'm not happy for Santana because I am. I'm happy that she's finally starting to warm up to living here. I'm glad that she isn't insulting me every chance she gets, and she doesn't seem to care that my dietary requirements can be very limiting and a little complicated at times, especially since the amount of money that goes into buying my food is more than their weekly grocery allowance. But what I can't figure out is why. Why is Santana being so nice to us after all this time? Why is she suddenly so calm, and cool about everything? Why does she walk around with a little smirk on her face like she has some big secret that's constantly on her mind, but she won't tell anyone?

I know that look. I used to walk around with that look on my face after Finn and I slept together but I tried to keep the code of the bedroom. I tried as hard as I could not to tell anyone about Finn and I's consummation of our relationship, but I had to tell someone. I couldn't really tell Kurt since he and Finn are step-brothers, and love each other like brothers. I couldn't really tell Quinn about it since I have a feeling the love triangle that was between us for so long still stings her even if she isn't willing to admit it. So I ended up talking with Tina about it. She was the one who encouraged me to be with Finn if the time felt right, and our hearts were in it, and she promised not to gossip about it, and she kept that promise.

But why is Santana walking around on figurative clouds? Brittany is still with Sam, they were together all night at the wedding-that-wasn't reception, and there's absolutely no way she could have met someone here to be happy to be back with. She spends all of her time working, and when she isn't working she's digging into my love life with Brody, and when she isn't doing that she's on her phone. I know that sounds like I'm missing an obvious observation. In this day and age if Santana had met someone she would text or talk with them all the time, but I did a little snooping of my own, and there were only eight numbers on her phone: mine, Kurt's, her mother's, her three jobs, and Quinn's.

"Rachel, will you please just let this go? Yes, it's a little weird that Santana is being so nice, especially to you since lately you've been a little extra diva-ish, and you've been attacking her as much as she used to attack you, but that none of this is an excuse to pry into her life. We should respect her privacy, and if she's ready to tell us about anything then she'll tell us," he says, and my eyebrows raise in surprise. He isn't making eye contact anymore, and that's a clear sign that there's something he's not telling me. And now he's picking at his cuticles, he only does that when he's feeling guilty about something. Why would Kurt be feeling guilty?

"Oh my god," I say, and my whole body tenses. Why didn't I see it before? It was practically written all over his perfectly exfoliated face! "You slept with Blaine at Mr. Schue's wedding?" It's a question but I worded it like a statement. He doesn't need to say a damn thing for me to know the truth. He immediately gets up from the table and puts his bowl of cereal in the sink. He won't make eye contact and he looks really tense. On a side note, we really need to do some grocery shopping if he's eating off brand Lucky Charms for dinner.

"Kurt, are you going to tell Adam?" I ask, and my voice sounds sympathetic. I have no room to judge him for letting the romantic atmosphere of the reception go to his head...and other parts. I slept with Finn, after all, and I haven't been exactly forthcoming to Brody about it. Yes, our relationship is technically open, but I know he would have a problem with me sleeping with Finn just because of all the emotional baggage that would usually come with it.

"No, I'm not," he says and he finally turns around and looks at me. His eyes are turning red and there's tears swelling up in them. His nose and ears are also starting to turn pink like they always do when he's upset. I know it would be totally inappropriate to point out how cute it looks, so I'll just keep that thought to myself. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't tell him. Things are going so great with us, and I don't want to ruin everything because of one little mistake."

I jump up from my chair and throw my arms around him in a big hug. It takes him a couple of seconds, but he wraps his arms around my back and squeezes like his life depends on it. I can practically feel the weight of his guilt, and confusion, and I tear up a little too. I've felt so alone too, and I never thought I would say this but if it wasn't for Santana's support I probably would have packed my bags and gone back to Lima to cry in my daddies' arms, and let them think the city was just too much for me to handle. And speaking of which, I almost forgot.

"Don't think that you can distract me from everything else with your sad tale, Kurt Hummel," I say through a sniffle, and laugh a little. He laughs too, and we break apart. I keep my hand on his arm, though, because just this little bit of contact does feel really comforting. I think I'm going to start snuggling with him while we watch television or movies because if just this little gesture is making me feel better than I've been depriving myself of human contact too much lately. "Something is going on around this apartment, and I want to know what." He rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face lets me know he's just teasing.

"Rachel, if Santana has managed to find some small scrap of happiness after everything that's happened between her and Brittany, why are you so desperate to figure it out? If she isn't ready to tell us about it then we shouldn't pry. Look how crazy she's making you with all of her comments about Brody," he says, and I can't help but sigh. He's right, I know he's right, but that doesn't mean I have to admit that out loud. For a while I was perfectly happy with Brody, then everything happened with Finn at the wedding, and now it does feel a little tainted. But that doesn't mean Santana's rude comments and suspicions are any less annoying and rude.

"Ok, ok, I'll back off. But something is definitely going on, can we at least agree on that?" I ask, and he nods his head. See, I told you I was right. Santana is up to something. It seems like the only time Santana is ever happy is when she's up to no good. I may have peeked at her phone to see who she's been calling and texting, but I didn't read any of her texts with Quinn. I do have some respect for her privacy, though I don't know why I bother. She's torn through this apartment snooping through our things so many times that it would even the score a little.

"Alright, well, I'm meeting up with Adam at that little art revival theater, and I don't know when I'll be back so don't wait up," he says as he walks over to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. He gives me a peck on the cheek as he grabs his shoulder bag, and heads for the door. When he's almost there, he turns around and gives me a very poignant look. "And Rachel, don't snoop through Santana's things. She'll know, and I don't feel like dealing with the blood stains when she rips your eyes out for finding her porn stash, or whatever it is she keeps under her bed." I roll my eyes at his dramatics, and agree to mind my own business. Why does being a good person have to be so hard sometimes?

...

I never thought that I would say this, even to myself, but being on a stage can be so exhausting sometimes. I got the lead in a workshop for school, but instead of working on it in class like a normal school would, the rehearsals are at seven at night. Between classes at NYADA, rehearsing for the workshop, and trying to maintain a somewhat normal relationship with Brody, I'm feeling a little run down. We haven't been spending as much time together, which is making me feel very lonely, and after everything that happened with Finn, I don't know how much more guy drama I can take.

Maybe I should call things off with him, and follow through with being an independent woman and focus on my studies instead of trying to wrap my head around everything else. I mean, I never thought I would be the kind of girl who has a pregnancy scare this early on in life. My dads suggested that I go on hormonal birth control as soon as I hit puberty, and once they explained why I didn't hesitate. Plus I've never had sex without a condom just to be safe. It isn't just that, though. Not only did I think I was pregnant, I also wasn't sure who the father was.

Not that there's anything wrong with having multiple partners, if that's what makes you happy, and everyone is a consensual adult then the more power to you. But I've always seen myself as a one man kind of woman, even if what Brody and I have isn't exclusive. It isn't like I went out with anyone else or fooled around with anyone else until Mr. Schue's not-a-wedding. Being with Finn again, even if I tried to pretend that it was just for old time's sake, and it didn't mean anything, it's sparked something in me that I didn't realize was even there.

I want to be in an exclusive relationship, and go on dates, and be treated like a princess. Not that Finn ever treated me like a princess. In hindsight, I don't even think that meat he cooked for me on the night we almost slept together for the first time was actually substitute. Finn didn't even know what vegan was until I explained it to him, and since it wasn't important to him he never really paid too much attention to the difference. But he was my first real love, and he'll always hold a special place in my heart. Even if he doesn't understand the importance of buying organic or the evils of factory farms.

I'm not saying that I necessarily want to break things off with Brody. Brody is sweet, and he understands why I'm working so hard to be on Broadway because he has the same dreams as I do. He just isn't conceded like Jesse was. Just because we don't have exactly what I want doesn't mean it can't work, at least not for now. The sex is amazing, and he always holds me and talks to me afterwards, not just before or during. He cares, and even if it doesn't show it in a traditional, romantic comedy kind of way doesn't make it any less important.

I let out a huge groan as soon as I see the door to the loft. I cannot wait to peel off these stylish yet completely uncomfortable boots, change into some sweats, and pass out while watching Kurt's DVDs of _I Love Lucy._ Is it sad that I'm only nineteen and staying in and watching an old black and white show sounds like heaven? Then again when have I ever really acted my age, except for the boy craziness of high school? I just want to be able to change into some comfortable clothes, maybe open up one of the bottles on wine hidden under the sink, and curl up on the couch and forget about my problems. Is that really so much to ask?

Apparently it is. When I open the door and walk into the loft, I can't help but notice the mess in the kitchen. There's dishes from where two people obviously had dinner together, and there's a candle in the middle of the table. What makes me groan a little in frustration is the fact that there are two empty bottles of wine sitting on the counter. Two was the exact number of bottles of wine that we had under the sink, which means I'm going to be relaxing tonight without a glass. That makes me sound like an alcoholic, but I'm not. Alcohol is a depressant, which means it will help me fall asleep, and it would really help numb the blisters on my feet from these stupid boots, but I guess I'll take a nice, long bath instead.

I shut the door as quietly as I can because this headache is going nowhere anytime soon, but there's really no way to be quiet when closing a giant metal door that's probably only a year from falling off it's hinges and killing whoever is standing near it. Great, now I'm going to have bad dreams tonight about that. Why did I have to think that? Ok, Rachel, just because you had a stressful and tiring day doesn't mean you have to be a Debby Downer. Just because Kurt and Santana drank all the wine, and already had dinner without you doesn't mean anything. They probably put some leftovers in the fridge for me so I won't have to cook because otherwise I'll be going to bed hungry tonight.

I set my bag down next to the coat rack that Kurt found at a flea market last weekend, then take off my scarf, and coat. They may not do too much on keeping the cold out, but at least they look really cute, and I've never really been able to say that about my clothes before. I never wanted to admit it in high school but I wore such awful clothes mostly because I didn't know any better, I was too proud to ask anyone for help, but mostly it was because I didn't see the point of buying nice clothes if they were just going to be ruined by red dye forty when one of the athletes or cheerleaders decided to give me a slushy facial. But those days are behind me, and I've even caught Santana checking me out a couple of times.

I'm about half way to the kitchen to check and see if they saved me any dinner when I hear something odd. It makes me freeze, and my ears feel like they're burning as they strain to listen to see if the noise will happen again. I don't hear exactly the same thing, but there's definitely something going on, and I have a feeling I know what it is. The first noise sounded like a moan, and now it sounds like people are kissing. Oh that's right, I forgot Kurt said he was going to stay at Adam's tonight, so he isn't here. That can only mean that Santana brought someone back to the loft, and now they're probably having sex. Ok, now I know how she feels whenever Brody stays over, and we have sex or do other intimate things. How am I supposed to relax, and fall asleep with a peaceful mind when Santana is getting laid only twenty feet from my bed? This night just went from bad to worse, but hopefully this means she's starting to get over Brittany. Even if this girl is only a rebound, it's better than Santana crying into her pillow when she thinks we can't hear her.

I have to admit, though, that if this is just a one night stand, Santana has gone all out. Not only did they have our wine, but she also cooked? Santana never cooks for us unless we agree to do her chores for a week. But then again, with the promise of sex I'm sure Santana would go above and beyond her normal limit of "domestication practices". And those are her words, not mine. I swear, she throws around all of these false feminist arguments just to get out of doing things around the apartment like cleaning and cooking, and doing the weekly grocery shopping. I do have to hand it to her, though, because I never thought she would be so well read on the subject.

Sure, Quinn always talked about stuff like that in high school, and she always had a book in her hand about feminism in a post modern world, plus the classics, but Santana would just roll her eyes. In fact, the only time I ever remember Santana caring at all about women's issues is when Brittany got involved with student government. Maybe seeing Brittany stand up for herself, and for all of the young women at McKinley sparked something in Santana and made her want to find out more on her own? I always knew that Brittany was good for Santana, I just never knew how much influence she really had on her. But none of us were ever friends, so there's no way I could have known the extent of it.

I check the fridge just in case, but there are no leftovers. Now that I know Kurt and Santana are not the ones who made dinner, and drank the wine without me, I'm not surprised or upset that there isn't anything for me. I'll just grab my bag of granola, put on my noise canceling headphones, and spend the night curled up in bed and try desperately not to wonder who Santana has in her bed. It isn't like I'm jealous, because I'm not. I may have thought about what it's like to be with a girl, but I've only ever been attracted to boys. I'm just curious who Santana went for post-Brittany. Is she blonde? Is she super tall? Does she have amazing legs? Or did she go for the opposite of her ex because the thought of being with someone anything like Brittany is too painful?

Ok, I really do need to mind my own business. Kurt and I had that little discussion two weeks ago, and I've done a fairly good job of staying out of Santana's way. I may have peeked at her phone a couple more times since then. I didn't read her texts, but I was curious to see who she's been talking to all the time, since she's still walking around the apartment with a smirk on her face that is driving me crazy. But it's still the same. She only texts with Quinn, and occasionally Kurt and I, and the only calls are from work, her mother, and Quinn. I honestly think she's sleeping with one of her coworkers but Kurt won't hear any of it. He doesn't want to indulge my crazy obsessive behavior, but I can tell he's curious too because Santana has been in a great mood for too long to not be seeing someone, even if she is only hooking up with them.

I grab my granola out of the cupboard, and head towards my section of the loft. I'm so glad we put up these privacy curtains instead of just having mattresses on the floor like most people do in this type of situation. Even if Santana is being relatively quiet, I really don't want to see the covers moving because of whatever it is they're doing, and God forbid if they were to slip off and I accidentally get an eye full. I'm pretty sure she would rip my eyes out if that were to happen. Then again, she is Santana, and she's never been shy about her body. Maybe she would take her time pulling the covers back over them, and even send me a perverted wink while she did so. Even just the thought of that makes my stomach turn.

At least I don't have to actually deal with that type of situation, and once I get my noise canceling headphones on I'll be able to just pretend that it isn't happening. I kind of can't wait until the morning to see who she brought home, though. Plus I'll be able to tease the hell out of her after all of things she's said about Brody. I'm sure if I even ask if they're dating Santana will blush she hard her ears will look like they're about to explode. Maybe I'm not such a good person after all since just the idea of teasing Santana about this is making me feel a thousand times better. Now all I need is sleep, and I'll be as good as new.

"Oh my god, Santana!" I scream when I pull back my curtain. From the posters on the wall, and the pink alarm clock on the table, I know that this is my bed. It's my bed, and she's under the covers with another girl, and since there are two sets of skirts, and tops, and shoes, and under...things I know that they're completely naked. My eyes get even wider when Santana's head pokes out from under my comforter and she has an annoyed look on her face.

"What the fuck, Berry? Get the hell out of my room," she says, and before I can even reply, she pulls the blanket back over her head. I hear someone giggle, and it doesn't sound like Santana. It does sound familiar, though, and it makes my eyebrows furrow for a second. But then the very distinct smacking sound that can only be created when kissing someone with too much tongue rings loudly through the small space, and I forget my confusion.

"This isn't your room, it's mine! How much did you drink tonight?" I scream, and her head pops up from under the covers again, and she looks around the room a little bit. I can tell by the look on her face that she's pretty confused, but the confusion goes away as soon as reality sets in. Instead of getting up, she starts laughing her loud laugh that only happens when she's drunk. The girl under her starts laughing too, and I swear I've heard that laugh before. It doesn't matter, though, because this is not ok. I kick the side of the mattress, and then stomp my foot. Ok, so I still stomp my foot sometimes. Some habits are easier to break than others.

"Get your floozy out of my bed right now!" I yell, and that makes the laughter stop almost immediately. She looks over at me with a scowl on her face, and if she weren't so drunk I would be intimidated. But drunk Santana has the coordination of a baby learning how to walk, so I know I would be able to out run her if she did try to attack me.

"Watch who you're calling a floozy, Miss Open Relationship," she slurs, and I can't help it, but her words do sting. I see a hand move under the covers, and then there's a loud smack to what I'm hoping was on the back of Santana's thigh and not her ass because that thought is a little too much for me to handle right now. "Ow! What the fuck?" She looks down at the girl under her, and I can see some blonde hair on my pillow. Ok, so I guess not all blondes remind her of Brittany. That would be a good thought if _they weren't fucking in my bed_.

"Don't be a jerk," the girl says, and a cold shiver runs down my spine. There's no way. There is no freaking way. I walk over to the bed and rip back the covers. Not enough to expose anything...private, but enough for me to see a face. My eyes go so wide that they actually hurt, like my muscles have to strain to keep them in their sockets, and my mouth falls open. Both of them let out loud shouts of "hey!" in surprise, but it barely registers in my mind. Pale hands wrap around the comforter and pull it tightly against Santana's back, but she doesn't try to cover up her face. So, I guess that means she's not ashamed?

"Quinn? What are you doing here? When did this happen? How long has this been going on?" I ask, and I didn't take a breath between any of those questions. They both look a little confused. Well, Quinn looks confused as she tries to process my words; Santana just looks annoyed. I'm assuming she's annoyed because I've interrupted what was a very intimate night with Quinn freaking Fabray.

"The first time was at the wedding," Quinn says and her words are just as slurred as Santana's. I can't say anything. With one sentence Quinn Fabray has rendered me completely speechless and it wasn't with some horrible insult, or threat of violence. While I'm just standing here like a mute, she gets a big, dopey grin on her face, and softly runs her fingers through Santana's hair. "The first two times, actually." Santana returns her smile, and she leans down and kisses her. Holy shit. Oh my God. They're not just hooking up. They actually have feelings for each other.

"I knew it!" I scream, and let out a little laugh. They break apart, and look over at me like I'm losing my mind because, who knows, maybe I am, and I can't freaking believe this is happening right now. "I knew you were acting different after the wedding, but Kurt said I was crazy, and that I should just wait for you to tell us, but now I don't have to wait because I know why you've been so happy lately! I'm not crazy! I can't wait to rub this in Kurt's face! This is amazing! You two are perfect for each other!" I start laughing again this time I can't stop, and they're still looking at me like I'm crazy.

"I'm so happy for you!" I scream, and what would probably be a move that is against a rational person's judgement, I lunge at them. I jump on the bed and wrap my arms as well as I can around both of them because I'm so happy, and tired and emotionally drained that I may have actually lost my mind a little bit, and I can't hold it back. Santana immediately tries to shrug me off, and Quinn looks like she's having trouble breathing.

"Get off me, Hobbit!" Santana yells, and Quinn winces because her face is right there, and that must have hurt her ears. I give Santana an extra squeeze before hopping off my bed. I'm going to ignore the hobbit comment for now because I don't want to spoil this mood. Instead I run over and grab my headphones, and my MP3 player, and a book to read because why not? Their eyes are on me the entire time, and Santana is definitely looking at me like I've lost my mind, and at this point I really can't blame her.

"Ok, so you can have my bed for the night, and I'll just sleep in yours," I say, and run back over to the opening of the curtain. I really don't want to see them get out of bed because even though my confidence has grown, seeing them naked, especially together, would kill whatever good feelings I have about my body. "Oh, and you're going to wash my bedding tomorrow, and you owe me breakfast every morning for a week. Have fun!"

I quickly slide the curtains closed, and head towards Santana's section of the apartment. When I'm about half way there, I can't help but smile when I hear, "So, exactly when were you planning on telling your roommates about us? Because I have a feeling one just found out." It's really nice to see that Quinn has a sense of humor about this, and hopefully it isn't just the alcohol that's making her so calm about everything because otherwise I'll have two former HBICs that want to kill me and hide my body. Maybe I'll just text Brody and see if I can stay at his place tonight despite that fact that I'm ready to end our relationship, it seems like a much better alternative to being murdered.


	2. Spring Cleaning

**Summary: Future Fic. Quinn comes home from church and finds her once very clean apartment a total mess. The neat freak in her causes her to lash out, and things take an unexpected turn. Basically a smutty one shot with some plot.**

**Rating: M**

**Pairing: Faberry**

**Trigger Warning: Very brief and non-descriptive mention of domestic abuse. PM me for specifics if you're worried about being triggered but still want to read.**

**It's been a long time since I've written smut so I wanted to try it as a writing exercise. Hope you enjoy.**

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Quinn didn't know exactly how her once very well put together home had become so disarranged. It was a small apartment in New York, which meant there wasn't much room for clutter, or anything else for that matter. It worked out well for her, however, because she was a naturally organized person, almost to a fault. Her apartment now, however, couldn't be categorized as anything but catastrophic. Everything used to be orderly. Everything had its place. Now, as she walked in the front door and took in the scene around her, she couldn't help but cringe.

She had only been gone for four hours. It was Sunday which meant early morning mass, then helping with Bible Study for the kids, then afterwards getting something to eat with Mary, Julia, their husbands Derek, and Marcus, and their kids. She dodged questions about whether or not she was seeing anyone, and why she was taking so long tying the knot. Being from small town Ohio, she knew it was unusual to be twenty-eight and unmarried, but she had her reasons, which she kept very close at hand.

Now, as she saw the DVDs covering her once clutter free coffee table, the pile of dishes in the sink, the frying pans on the stove that still had melted oil sitting in the bottom ruining the nonstick coating, and the wet towel just lying on the floor like that's where it belonged, with loud pop music blaring from the speakers as if they didn't have neighbors that lived very close by, Quinn was feeling ready to use her right to change her mind, and call this whole thing off.

Maybe they just weren't ready. Yes, they were twenty-eight, but did that mean they had to have a completely adult relationship. She was starting to feel the pressure from her mother and sister to find a husband. Not that the pressure had been any less when she was only sixteen, but with every weekly Skype video-chat she shared with the two, it felt like a lead weight was being strapped across her forehead and shoulders. It was also quite clear from this mess - is that imitation egg on the _wall_ behind the stove? - that they were simply incompatible at cohabitation.

She just couldn't understand what she was seeing. The two had known each other since high school, and though she had only seen the inside of the other's bedroom only once growing up when she became curious during a party thrown at the brunette's house, it was a very neat and well put together room. Everything was in its place, everything had a structure and order to it, and there wasn't a pile of dirty laundry just sitting on the floor _next to_ the laundry basket. Where was the logic in that? If there was, Quinn couldn't find it.

She was about to call out, to scream until she was heard over the repetitive noise that was making her tension headache even worse. When she saw the bedroom door open, however, she remained silent. She wanted to see what Rachel had to say for herself. Would the brunette be embarrassed about the mess? Quinn thought so. After three weeks of living together the other woman had been nothing but tidy even if she did sometimes leave the dishes in the sink to wash the next day, and even if she forgot to clean the smudges of makeup off the sink right away, she eventually got around to it. But this was new, and jarring for someone who was used to living in a very clean and organized space.

Quinn's breath caught in her throat when Rachel finally made an appearance. She was dressed in a pair of shorts so small they barely qualified for a belt. She was wearing a tank top, but it was old and had a rip that exposed a good portion of her stomach, the well toned muscles rippling underneath as she continued to dance around. Quinn's body immediately ignited. A fire burned in her belly and spread heat throughout her veins. With how busy they had been with the careers, and the stress of moving in together, the only physical intimacy the two had shared within the last three weeks were cuddles on the couch, and gentle goodnight kisses before turning out the light, and going to sleep.

_Snap out of it, Fabray_, she scolded, and watched the brunette for a moment longer. She twirled, and moved her hips from side to side to the rhythm of the song that was pounding into Quinn's head like a jack hammer. She needed to stay focused. Just because her body was no longer mad at Rachel didn't mean she could let her get away with destroying the living room and kitchen. She didn't even want to think about what the bedroom might have looked like. Just the thought of the makeup on her vanity, or the clothes carefully folded and placed in the drawers being out of order made her skin crawl.

She finally moved out of the doorway. She walked over to the iPod that was hooked up the wireless speakers, and turned it off, her eyes never leaving the other woman. Rachel jumped, startled by the sudden loss of sound, and turned around so quickly her damp hair spun in a perfect ark, most of it landing on her shoulder, the rest fell down her back. Quinn's body reacted to how sexy it looked, the sudden urge to run her fingers through the chestnut silk as she kissed her, and not-so-gently pushed her down on the floor was almost overwhelming.

"Hey, baby," Rachel said, her surprise quickly turning to joy as she smiled at the blonde. She walked closer, her body completely relaxed, her face slightly flushed from the exertion from dancing. If she noticed that Quinn was glaring daggers at her, she didn't let on. She simply walked up to her love of the last five years and gave her a quick peck hello on the lips. "How was church?" Her smiled faded a bit as Quinn continued to glare. Her eyebrows knit together with concern, and she gently rubbed Quinn's upper arms, something that usually helped to calm the other woman down if she was upset. "Did something happen, babe?"

"Not at church, no," she said as calmly as she possibly could. She glanced over Rachel's shoulder at the mess on the floor. "But what happened here?" Her eyebrow arched perfectly as she looked back into the mocha colored eyes she loved so much. The concern looked vanished from Rachel's face almost immediately, and Quinn wanted to scream when it was replaced with a small smirk. Quinn knew that look. She had seen that look many times when Rachel thought she was being too uptight, and needed to relax.

"Nothing," she said. She left another small kiss on Quinn's lips before backing away. Quinn didn't respond to the kiss, just stood in tense silence and waited. "Just doing a little bit of cleaning." She sounded like they were talking about something everyday. She sounded like Quinn was the one with the problem who needed to get over it. She sounded like there wasn't a fight on the horizon if things weren't cleaned up very soon. She simply walked over to the piles of clothes on the floor and started picking through it, placing all of the dark colored clothes into the basket.

"Cleaning?" Quinn asked, her voice was even more strained than before. She crossed her arms over her chest, and took a small breath, trying to stay calm. "This isn't cleaning. I...I don't know what this is, but whatever it is, it isn't cleaning." She wanted to scream when Rachel didn't even bother looking up at her. She simply continued to sort the clothes until she was satisfied with how full the basket looked. She stood up, basket pressed to her hip, and she smiled a small, almost cheeky grin at the blonde.

"Baby, just because you clean one way and I clean another it doesn't mean what I do isn't really cleaning," she said, and gave a little wink as she headed towards the door. Quinn's eyes narrowed a little further at the sight, but for a completely different reason. Was Rachel seriously headed on her way to the laundry room when they were in the middle of a conversation? More importantly, was she really going to go out of the apartment wearing _that_? They shared this building with other people; people who were probably walking up or down the halls either coming home or going out, and there were probably people in the laundry room already.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" Quinn asked, her voice tight but higher pitched than before. The shock of what she's seeing feels like cold water slashing down her back. Surely, Rachel has more modestly than that. If it's one thing Quinn has always been certain about is that Rachel is a good girl. She may not be humble when it comes to her talent, but she doesn't show off her body unnecessarily, and she would never wear something like that out in a semi-public space. How is she supposed to convince her family that Rachel is marriage material if she goes out looking like _that_?

"Yes, sweetheart?" she asked, and looked over at Quinn with a confused expression across her face. Quinn seemed to be eyeing something, and Rachel looked down at the laundry basket. Her eyes lit up with recognition, and she gave a little laugh as she shook her head. "Oh, I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me." She walked back over to the couch, and sitting on the end table next to it was the tiny box of detergent, and box of lavender scented dryer sheets. She picked them both up and put them on top of the clothes before heading back towards the door. Quinn almost lost her mind.

"Aren't you forgetting something else?" she asked, and crossed her arms over her chest. She watched as the other girl froze in her tracks, and slowly turned around. Her eyebrows were knit together in confusion, and she had a small frown on her face that made the skin next to the corners of her lips wrinkle a little. Her eyes scanned Quinn's face as if she would find the answer somewhere on her sour expression. Even though Quinn believed she was in the right, she needed to choose her words carefully, or this conversation would go from uncomfortable to the beginning of World War III. "Clothes, Rach. Don't you think you should change?"

She let out a huge breath, and her entire body relaxed. For a second she thought she had done something really wrong, and the relief she felt was obvious. "Don't worry, babe," she said with a little smile. "I always wear this when I do my laundry." She was about to turn around and head out the door, but something about the look in Quinn's eye stopped her. She couldn't describe exactly what it was, but it caused a cold feeling to coil in her belly. Pinpricks tingled at the back of her neck, and the baby fine hairs on her arms stood on end.

"You always wear that when you go down to the laundry room?" Quinn asked, her head lightly cocking to the side. It would have looked cute if the tension in the room wasn't so suffocating. In her shock, and anger she gave up on trying to be diplomatic about the issue. "So every week while I'm gone, you're here parading around in that for the whole building to see? That is not ok!" Her body burned with the glare that Rachel sent her way after those words left her mouth, but she forced it to the back of her mind. She needed to stay focused, and letting her arousal get in the way was not an option, even if Rachel looked downright sexy when angry.

"Yes, it is ok, Quinn," she said, her voice oozing venom. "They're just shorts and a tank top, it isn't that big of a deal. And you don't get to decide what I wear." She took a breath and tried to calm herself. It wasn't Quinn's fault that this conversation was hitting some really sore nerves. The relationship she had been in before Quinn wasn't the healthiest, and this is exactly how it had all started. First it was with "suggestions" about her clothes and makeup, and it ended with a black eye that took an entire month to fade. She still had enough of her confidence and self esteem to leave before it escalated beyond that, but it had left a pretty deep scar on her mind.

"It is a big deal, Rach. Do you really want the whole building judging you, or all of the men who see you imagining you while they get off?" Quinn said, her voice sounded a little calmer than before, but all Rachel could do was roll her eyes. She had had this conversation with Quinn before about her rooftop sun bathing, and it was getting very old, very fast. The laundry basket suddenly felt heavy and burdensome pressed against her hip, so she set it on the floor. When she stood up, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself down before she spoke.

"I can't control what other people think about me, Quinn, no matter what I do or what I wear. I would go completely insane if I tried," she said, but by the look on Quinn's face she knew the other woman wasn't getting it. "Do you think I haven't tried? When I started out on Broadway, do you think I didn't obsess over what everyone thought of me? That I didn't cry my eyes out whenever I got a bad review, or someone said something mean just to be an asshole? People are going to think what they think no matter what you do."

"This is different and you know it," Quinn said. The anger flowing through her veins made her feel hot, and stuffy. She took off her cardigan and threw it onto the couch. She didn't know what was more irritating: the fact that Rachel was too stubborn to simply put on a pair of pants, or that her body still wouldn't settle down. "I just don't think it's a good idea for you to walk around the building dressed like that."

"Dressed like what, Quinn?" she yelled, she couldn't help it. She knew that Quinn had a very conservative background, but she thought she had gotten over some of the stingier sides of it. They often went to the beach together when the weather allowed, and both of their bikinis showed more than what Rachel was revealing right now. It didn't seem to bother the blonde then and Rachel was getting tired of this rigidness. "Just because I'm not as conservative as you seem to want me to be it doesn't make me anything."

Quinn's eyes followed Rachel's hands. They waved around a little when she talked, but when she finished they settled on her hips. She could feel her neck and chest heat up as they caught the glimpse of Rachel's hip bones through the thin material of her shorts. Her mouth almost watered as her gaze lingered on the impossibly long legs that were toned to perfection. She wanted to squirm when she felt moisture pool in her underwear. _What is wrong with me? I'm not sixteen anymore. I shouldn't get this turned on just by looking at Rachel's legs_. But that's exactly how her body was responding, and it made her want to slam her head against the wall.

Rachel studied Quinn, as those hazel eyes became fixated on her. She was a little confused at first because Quinn still looked angry. Then she smelled it. It was a musky yet almost sickly sweet smell that could only be one thing. She wanted to be upset about it. Here Quinn was practically preaching that if she went out of their apartment in this outfit then the neighbors would be drooling over her, and yet Quinn was getting so wet Rachel could smell it from across the room. But her own body's response was automatic, and it had been a long time since they were intimate. It seemed a shame to waste this opportunity to teach Quinn a lesson.

"Quinn," she said, and the blonde's eyes immediately snapped up to her face. Quinn couldn't really believe what she just heard. Rachel's voice was huskier than it had been just seconds before, and the breathy way she said her name brought back too many memories for her to handle at that moment. It almost didn't seem fair. "You're selfish." Her face immediately fell, and contorted into a look of pure confusion.

"How am I selfish?" she asked, and coughed. Her voice was different, and it wasn't helping the situation. It had taken on a deeper quality, and sounded gravely. It almost seemed to be in direct response to Rachel's sudden shift in demeanor. She wanted to scream, and possibly run from the room, when the corners of Rachel's mouth tugged into a small smirk. She had a bad feeling about whatever was happening, and it crackled through her like electricity.

"You're selfish, Quinn, because," she began, and walked towards the other woman. No, that wasn't quite right. As Quinn's eyes fought to stay focused on Rachel's face, she couldn't help but think that her love looked like an animal stalking prey. Her hips lightly swayed from side to side, and the look in her eyes was absolutely dangerous. She felt as if she were about to be burned, but she couldn't make herself move. Then, before she knew it, Rachel was standing right in front of her, with that smirk still planted on her face. "You want to keep me all to yourself."

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, her voice a breathy whisper. She let out a small gasp when she felt Rachel's index finger gently lie across her lips. She wanted so much to open her mouth and pull that finger in her mouth, lightly sucking while she looked straight into Rachel's eyes that were almost black with want.

"Shh, no more talking for you," Rachel whispered. She wrapped her hands around Quinn's hips, and guided her backwards. Quinn's arms immediately fell from where they were crossed over her chest, and she grabbed onto Rachel's shoulders to stop herself from falling. "To answer your question: no, it isn't really a good thing. It means you're worried I'm going to leave you for someone else." She gave Quinn a gentle shove, and she fell back onto the couch. She pushed at Quinn's shoulders until she was pressed against the couch completely. Quinn's eyes went wide when Rachel pulled the tiny shorts down her legs, and kicked them to the side, revealing that she hadn't been wearing anything underneath.

"It's been so long, baby, maybe I just need to remind you that I'm not going anywhere," she said, and with that she straddled Quinn's thighs. She settled her knees on the cushions, her arms resting on either side of Quinn's head, and she let her body brush against her girlfriend's. She kept a little distance between them, the teasing made her feel powerful, and in control, which was normally Quinn's place. She softly kissed Quinn's neck, leaving little love bites every few seconds, and she wanted to smile every time she felt the other woman shudder.

She kissed her way up the side of Quinn's neck until she was breathing hotly against her ear. She could feel Quinn's chest moving rapidly with her heavy panting, and her face had become so flushed she could feel the heat radiating off of it. She slowly kissed down her law line, gently nipped at her chin as she ignored the swollen lips she wanted so badly to kiss but that had to wait for right now. Instead, she moved to the other side of Quinn's neck, and lavished it with her attention.

Every sigh that Quinn let out, every soft moan she made, every whimper, and every movement of her body filled up a piece of Rachel she didn't even realize she had been missing. The physical affection they had for one another had fell by the wayside as they became too busy with other things; work, moving in together, making time for their friends, and the hundred or so little errands that need to be run every week put a strain on their energy as they struggled to settle into a routine. But when Rachel started to grind against Quinn's thigh, still covered by her dress, she felt all of that frustration and little bit of loneliness wash away, and as she pulled away from Quinn's neck to look into her eyes, she could tell that Quinn was feeling the same.

"You're the only one who gets to have me this way, Quinn," she said as she ran her fingers through Quinn's short hair. It had been cut recently, and at first Rachel didn't really know how to feel about it because Quinn's long locks were beautiful, especially when the sunlight caught them just right. But she liked the feel of the length as she gently pulled, testing her boundaries a little. "Even if other people think of me when they're touching themselves it doesn't matter, because you're the only one who gets the real thing."

She saw something flash in Quinn's eyes, and it sent a shiver up her spine. Her skin erupted with goose bumps, and her nipples became rock hard. She wasn't too sure what that look was - jealousy, possessiveness, anger? - but it made her body heat up until she felt sweat begin to form on her back, and hairline. She pressed herself more firmly against Quinn's thigh, and let out a moan as the friction pulled against her flesh. She quickly pulled off her top and bra, not even bothering with the clasp, and dropped the clothes to the floor with her shorts. Her hair fell over her shoulders, and when she looked back into Quinn's eyes, the pupils were so large the hazel was almost invisible.

"Do you think that - oh God," she moaned when she felt Quinn's hot breath against one of her nipples. She opened her eyes and whimpered when she saw those piercing eyes gazing up at her before they looked down at her breasts the way a starving person might look at a five course meal. "That no one touched themselves after they saw my performance in _Shallow Hearts_? I was topless in front of two thousand people every night, but walking around our building in shorts and a tank top is what bothers you?"

Quinn let go of Rachel's nipple, and place a few kisses on the space between her breasts. She could feel the hot flesh rub against her cheeks, and it was one of her favorite feelings. She felt so conflicted as the words tumbled from Rachel's lips. She wanted to be angry, but it was only turning her on even more. Rachel was right when she had said that it had been too long, and every nerve ending felt like it was on fire as Rachel's hips dug down into her, and moved back and forth, occasionally rotating in a small circle.

"The difference is," she said despite Rachel's rule about her not talking. "I didn't have to see those people almost every day." She wrapped her hand around the back of Rachel's neck, and pulled her down until their lips were pressed together. Quinn gasped at the feeling. It had been weeks since they'd shared a kiss that wasn't gentle, that wasn't a simple hello or goodnight. She felt like she was being set on fire, like electricity was jumping through every nerve, burning her skin until it felt like it would crack and pull away. She wanted to pull Rachel closer, have their skin flush together tightly without any barriers, but when she tried to reach down to lift her skirt, she felt tiny hands wrap around her wrists.

"Uh-huh," Rachel said, as she pulled away from the kiss. She looked into Quinn's eyes, now almost completely black, and she smiled. "You broke the rules. Good Christian girls don't break rules, remember?" Quinn's sternum felt like it would going to crack open if she couldn't feel Rachel's skin against her own. She tried to lean up a little, to press her lips back to her love's, but Rachel pulled away until she was out of reach. She smiled again, and Quinn thought her hair would catch fire with how hot that look made her. "Is that something good girls do, Quinn? I was raised Jewish so I don't know what the rules are exactly. But I'm pretty sure they wear clothes from their clavicle to their ankles. I think they wait to be kissed. And I _know_ they're not supposed to do this at all."

Quinn watched, her eyes wide, her breathing coming in hard and fast puffs through her nose as Rachel pressed her hand against her chest between her breasts. The other woman's fingers felt like lava where they were wrapped around her wrist, and her fingertips tingled as she softly caressed Rachel's scolding flesh. But they didn't stay there long. She let Rachel pull her hand down, slowly, across her ribs, and then her abdomen. The muscles jumped and jerked at her gentle touch, and she couldn't help but smile a little. She always loved watching the different ways Rachel's body reacted to her.

The smile vanished from her face, however, and she bit her bottom lip to try and contain the sound of her moan when Rachel lifted herself off of Quinn's thigh. She had to fight to stop herself from reaching out and trying to touch the visible wet spot that was left on her dress. Her fingertips felt as if they had been shocked, and her let out a gasp when Rachel slowly slid her long pale fingers between her legs. Rachel was absolutely _soaked_. Quinn had been able to feel it a little through the fabric of her dress, but this was insane. She instantly began to rub the slick, and burning flesh with two fingers, creating a rhythm that Rachel could easily rock against.

Having Rachel literally in the palm of her hand made her feel connected to her in a way they hadn't been in a long time. Her eyes left her love's core, and flicked up to her face so she could watch. She felt relieved when Rachel seemed to drop the act, and let every emotion wash over her expression. She had never looked more beautiful as she gripped the back of the couch, her eyes boring into Quinn's, and her body moving with the grace of a dancer, and Quinn felt tears sting at her eyes.

She didn't need to say anything, which she was grateful for. As soon as Rachel saw the tears swelling up in her hazel eyes, or dark with her arousal they were almost green, she leaned forward and their mouths connected. The kiss was surprisingly calm considering the tension that was sparking between them. Their lips fell into a gentle rhythm that contradicted the pace of Quinn's fingers. When the tip of Rachel's tongue ran along Quinn's upper lip, she didn't hesitate to open her mouth to reciprocate the touch. They both let out little sighs the second the slick flesh met, and for Quinn everything around her seemed to slow down.

It felt like they were getting reacquainted with one another, and Quinn ran her fingers through Rachel's hair. Rachel tasted like tooth paste and the strawberry flavored gum she loved so much. Quinn's eyes fluttered closed after a minute, and she let herself fall into the feeling of Rachel. All of the cracks felt like they were being filled. All of her anger, her frustration, and even her jealousy melted away until all she could breathe, taste, feel, and hear was this moment.

"Oh shit," Rachel moaned, and arched her back until her breasts were pressed against Quinn's chest. She had never hated a dress more in her life than the one she was wearing right now. It was quickly forgotten, however, as she watched Rachel's face. She eyes were closed, her mouth gaping open as the most delicious sounds were torn from her throat and echoed throughout the small living room. All thoughts of the neighbors over hearing them were nowhere near her mind as Rachel seemed to desperately chase after her release.

Quinn pressed her fingers a little harder against Rachel, and that's all it took. Her eyes glazed over as she watched Rachel fall apart in her hand. Her back and shoulders went stiff, as she hips ground frantically against Quinn's fingers. Quinn pulled her closer until she could kiss the column of the brunette's throat, tasting the salt of her sweat, and could feel her heart beating wildly through her veins. She sucked hard, leaving her mark, but if Rachel cared one way or another she didn't show any sign of it.

It felt like hours passed before Rachel finally stopped moving. She let out a giggle as her body went limp, and she collapsed against Quinn completely. She rested her head on her shoulder, placing lazy, sloppy kisses against her neck. She could smell both of them now, their sweat, and the musky smell of their stick wetness filled the air, and Rachel wanted to bathe in that smell until it filled every pore. She wanted everyone she encountered to smell it, to know she was spoken for since they had just moved in and weren't ready for more than that yet.

Quinn kissed the side of Rachel's head, and wrapped her arms around her. She ran her hands over the soft skin of her back, now slick with sweat, and she couldn't help but smile when the moisture on her fingers smeared against her. She kissed everywhere she could reach while she continued to rub her back. She kissed her shoulder, her cheek, her hair, and her temple, and she felt Rachel calm down. Her heart beat slowed back to normal, and her breathing became so even and deep Quinn thought for a moment that she had fallen asleep on her. So she leaned down, and bit Rachel's shoulder.

"Ow!" she yelled, and sat up straight. Quinn couldn't help but laugh, and she palmed Rachel's perfect ass. "You are such a jerk sometimes. Do you know that?" All Quinn could do was nod as she forced her eyes to stay on the mocha colored ones that had returned to their normal state. Her own body was still heated, even though she had calmed a little, but she knew letting her eyes roam would ignite her lust again. When she leaned forward, Rachel did as well, and they met for a sweet, slow kiss. It was simple, just the pressure of their lips tensing and relaxing against one another a few times.

It felt like forever since Quinn had felt so at peace. So when she felt Rachel grab onto her wrists and pull her hands away, while at the same time standing up from her spot on Quinn's lap, the blonde's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice huskier than normal, and she cleared her throat at the sound. She watched in horror as Rachel picked up her shorts and slid them back on. Then she pulled the tank top over her head, forgoing the bra, and she gave the blonde a cheeky grin.

"I'm going to do laundry," she said, and Quinn's jaw fell open. There was no fucking way Rachel was going to just leave her like this. "Don't give me that look. You have a vibrator. I found it earlier." Quinn didn't know why she was blushing, or why she felt so embarrassed about that. Rachel had just literally ridden her until she came, and now apparently she was going to leave to do laundry looking like that. Her face was still flushed, she had a hickey the size of a quarter, and the smell still coming off of her was strong. She wanted to protest, but since that didn't work out completely in her favor last time, she kept her mouth shut.

"I'll be back soon, baby, I promise." She winked, and Quinn wanted to die. "And don't worry, I'll clean up the rest of my mess when I'm done with the clothes." And with that she left, a maniacal laugh was the last thing Quinn heard before she shut the door. _Yeah, I don't think living with her is going to work out at all_, she thought with a sigh as she stared up at the ceiling. _Might as well put all of this frustration to good use_, she grumbled to herself as she stood up from the couch, and walked into the kitchen to do Rachel's dishes. _She is going to owe me so much tonight. I swear, she is not getting away with this._


End file.
